


Nightmares & Demons

by VintageSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Dalish Culture, Dalish Elves, F/M, Flashback, Fluff, Gen, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Nightmares, Office, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Skyhold, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, commander cullen - Freeform, da ff, da fluff, dragon age fic, dragon age fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageSkies/pseuds/VintageSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Dyrni Lavellan suffers nightmares and PTSD much like the beloved Commander Cullen. After the events in Haven, she finds herself comforted by his presence and she wishes to help him as he has already unknowingly helped her. One night, amid lack of sleep, she decides to visit him in an attempt to express her feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dyrni’s bare feet padded down the steps soundlessly as she pulled the furs closer to her chest. For the past few hours, sleep had eluded her and thoughts of her sister ran so rampant through her mind she was afraid her head might explode lest she speak to someone about it.

The door to the great hall creaked open but the usual clamor of the room was silent. Dyrni took a deep breath and followed the carpet to the last door on the left. Its typical guardsman was nowhere to be seen, at least not in the hall. Dynri expected as much given the hour – the moon was beginning its decent in the blue-black sky –although she figured the dwarf was probably at the tavern and still far from calling it a night. She opened the door carefully, lest the sound echo through the rotunda and startle the birds, then the entire wing would be awake.

As she tiptoed through the short passage, her eyes began to grow accustomed to the candlelight that shone as bright as the morning sun in comparison to the thick darkness of the hall. Even her elven eyes had trouble adjusting.

Dyrni was not at all surprised to find Solas in the overly-large chair, his face in an old tome, the candle burning low. He must have heard her enter, for when he glanced up from his writing, he looked in no way surprised to see someone before him.

“Are you well, Inquisitor?”

“In truth, I’ve been better, Solas, but thank you for you concern. I will manage. What keeps you awake?”

“Just studying some notes from this ancient Tevinter volume. Perhaps it will aid us in our cause.”

“I do hope so. I appreciate your dedication, though you need not stay up all night on the Inquisition’s account.”

The sentiment brought a slight smile to the elf’s face, and he nodded his gratitude.

“It is not without my own interest as well, of course.” Dyrni nodded; of course she knew that, but she had other things on her mind. She felt her courage fleeting, and she knew she must act upon it or give up all hope of ever doing so.

“I shall leave you to it, then,” she gestured towards the book and walked towards the door.

“Dareth shiral, lethallin.”

“Ma serannas.”

__

Dyrni reached out a suddenly trembling hand and pushed open the door to the commander’s office and living quarters. Taking a step forward, she let the door close silently behind her. She had half-hoped to catch him awake, but standing in the dark and empty room, she was now glad she did not because she had no idea what she might say to him. The darkness of the room suddenly felt more suffocating than it had in the great hall, and she felt a desire to be back there once more. There, or perhaps in the sanctity of her own quarters where she might go out to the balcony as she often did on such nights, and stare up at the stars. They always had a way of reminding her of the insignificance of her and her problems, and she silently cursed herself for not doing that instead of running across Skyhold on a whim.

Then again, it wasn’t much of a whim. She had tried to take every possible excuse to come see the commander for months now. Whenever she was in his presence, all the lines, scenarios, and comments she had gone over in her mind countless times before just drifted away as if taken by a cruel and unforgiving breeze. Not once did she ever think waking him up in the middle of the night would be the easiest and least terrifying way to try and hint some of her feelings for him, but then again, she didn’t often listen to her own advice.

“Is someone there?” A voice called from above, and Dyrni jumped, suddenly realizing she was not alone, even in the darkness.

“Uh, yes, I,” she held onto the word longer than she would have liked, but the words did not come as easily as she had hoped, “hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Inquisitor? No, it’s, it’s fine. I’m a light sleeper.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He _was_ a light sleeper, but he hadn’t been sleeping. He had been able to find time to lay down for bed a bit earlier than usual, so he thought perhaps tonight would be the night of rest he so desperately needed. He was wrong. The nightmares had come almost before he had drifted asleep, and they had not stopped since. He had been lying in bed awake for at least an hour by now, afraid to go back to sleep but too tired to do anything else. He was almost asleep when he heard the door open, and while many would be irritated by the interruption, he was overwhelmingly relieved.

“Is something wrong?” he added quickly. “Is there to be a wartable meeting?” She heard him shifting on the mattress, presumably getting ready for her command. It was then she realized that a personal visit from the Inquisitor wasn’t exactly normal, and she had no good excuses to use if she felt too cowardly to actually talk with the man. She was left with only the truth, which, in hindsight, was the best plan anyway.

Her silence was longer than she realized or intended. It was broken by another, “Inquisitor?” before she gently shook her head and replied,

“Yes? I mean, no, no there’s no meeting. I, uhm, just wanted to talk, actually. If you have time, that is.”

“Talk? At this time of night? I mean, sure, of course. Would you prefer to come up or should I meet you down there? And for Andraste’s sake, light a torch. I can’t see a thing.” Dyrni suppressed a giggle. Her elven sight was often an unappreciated gift, but even though she could see in the dark, it did not take away her fear of being consumed by its nothingness.

“Don’t trouble yourself; I’ll come up.” She moved towards the ladder in the shards of moonlight that seeped into the room from the patchy room. As her hand touched the rungs, she heard shuffling above her and the sound of someone moving fabric or clothes.

By the time she reached the top, Cullen was dressed in an undershirt and linen pants, far from his usual Commander’s armor and anything Dyrni had ever seen him in before. It took her a moment to realize she was staring, though the dim light kept Cullen from noticing as she adverted her gaze and stood awkwardly by the ladder.

“Please. Have a seat. I apologize for the lack of options, but, as you can guess, I don’t often have many visitors up here.” He chuckled and she couldn’t help but smile. Following his open hand, she sat on the edge of his bed and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

 


	2. Resolute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dyrni finds the courage to tell the commander what has been bothering her recently, and we receive a story from her past.

Dyrni clutched the furs to her chest as she sat awkwardly against the edge of the Commander’s bed. The black and grey furs were clasped together with a silver antler brooch, the only thing she had left of her sister and her clan. She often ran her thumb over it to calm her nerves and steady her breathing when her anxiety got the best of her, but tonight it seemed to be defective.

On the walk over, her inner mantra assured her that visiting Cullen in the middle of the night was a wonderful idea. She had never been so wrong.

After an already prolonged silence, Dyrni shifted her weight and stared at the floor.

“Thank you for, uh, letting me…” she gestured with her hands while she searched for the words, “bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” Cullen’s voice was as soft and soothing as the gentle crackling from the torch on the wall. Dyrni could feel him looking at her in the silence that followed. His back was straight, and though his hands were not crossed politely in his lap, he was far from the epitome of relaxed. “Inquisitor? Might I ask you something?”

“You just did.” She turned her head and met his concerned gaze with a slight smirk. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around.

“Ah, yes, well, then, might I ask you something _else_?”

“You just – yes, of course.”

“Speaking of being bothered, which I’m not, and I hope this does not overstep any boundaries, but, you seem…distracted. Bothered, one might say.” He let his hand fall back to his lap and Dyrni got lost in the flickering flames amidst his amber eyes, so caring and strong yet enigmatic all the same.

“Is that so?” She blurted. She cringed the instant she said it, but it felt impossible to stop.

“I-I meant no offence, Inquisitor. If I –”

“No, please. I didn’t mean that.” She sighed, “I’m just…tired.” A million examples of what she was rushed past, but she couldn’t grasp the strength to admit any of them aloud. _Lonely. Afraid. A terrible person._

“Tired but you can’t sleep,” he managed a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, “I know how that goes.” He masked the pain well, but Dyrni could still feel it emanating from somewhere within him. The commander was always so resolute, stronger than the steel he wore and wielded. The only time she had seen him falter was that flicker of worry at Haven when she told him she was going out to face Corypheus. He hadn’t argued, however, and they never had much time to speak of it since.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” his voice was just above a whisper. They let the silence hang between them for a moment, but this time it didn’t feel tense or awkward. It was more like a blanket, a comfort, an understanding.

“My clan was attacked by Freemen of the Dales when I was twelve.” The words hung in the air and Dyrni stared into the flames to avoid eye contact.

“I didn’t…I’m sorry, Inquisi-”

“Don’t be sorry; it’s not your fault.” She turned and struggled with the lump in her throat, “and please, call me Dyrni.” She saw him nod before she turned back to the flames. “I suppose they weren’t technically Freemen of the Dales, given that the civil war between Celene and Gaspard was not like it is now, but they acted in a similar manner. We knew them. They had run into us a week before and demanded we trade with them at ridiculous prices. They needed our supplies for some war effort. It was robbery, except they technically offered coin, so they claimed it wasn’t. My keeper refused, of course, and they stormed off in a flurry of curses and threats.

Growing up Dalish, you get used to being called ‘knife-ear,’ and I’ve certainly learned how to pretend I didn’t hear it. When they left, we added extra guards for a few days, but we never expected them to bolster a small army and attack us mid-daylight. At least they had more sense than to attack a Dalish camp in the middle of the night.” She softly exhaled what might have been a laugh had it not been masked in pain. “Anyway, apparently they had gone back to their settlement and spoke of the ‘thieving knife-ears.’ It didn’t take much to rouse the age-old prejudice, and soon enough they had surrounded us.

Luckily, my clan was not entirely unprepared and we were able to defend ourselves. We only lost two members to their twenty, although we only had thirteen to start with. My sister was among them. I was still too young to fight and my magic had yet to show itself, so she pushed me behind her as one of the fighters loosed an arrow that caught her right in the chest.” Dryni could feel the tears welling in her eyes by now, but she ignored them.

“She would have made it, but everyone was fighting for their lives. Except for me. I ran behind the aravel’s wheel and prayed to the creators. I know you don’t believe in them, and I still don’t know if I believe or not, but at the time, they were the only ones I knew. I asked them to help my sister, if only Mythal would preserve her, if only Sylaise would save my home, if only…” The first tear fell down her cheek, swiftly followed by another. She heard more than saw Cullen move closer and place his hand shakily upon her back.

“I was going to be a healer. I was studying under Myra, but she was old and weak and she didn’t survive the battle. After everyone was dead, I ran to my sister. She had collapsed by that point, but I saw her take down two of the attackers before she did. I tried everything I knew, but I couldn’t save her. In that moment, I swore I would give it up. How could I be a healer if I couldn’t save the one person I cared about more than anything?” The tears were flowing freely now, and she was stroking the brooch with her thumb. “I took this brooch from her dead body. It sounds so awful when I say it like that, but it was the one thing our mother left to us. She died was I was six, and we never knew our father. Lysini wore this brooch every day. She was three years older than me, but she practically raised me herself. The clan was always there for support, but it wasn’t the same.” She hung her head and sobbed.

The commander was at a loss. He softly rubbed her back with his thumb, mimicking the way she caressed the family heirloom. He wiped his other thumb across both eyes and prayed to the maker Dyrni didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry,” she finally choked out as she straightened her back.

“Don’t be.” The look the commander gave her made her chest tighten. She wanted comfort, yes, but she never intended to make him worry. She shook her head and turned towards him, the lines of fresh tears shining in the firelight.

“I’ve never told anyone that story.”

“I’m honored to be the first, Dyrni.”

She actually smiled then. “I just…sometimes, when I close my eyes, it’s all I can see. Not just see, but hear, smell, _feel._ It’s like I’m twelve years old again, and when I’m _really_ lucky, I relive that nightmare over and over again until I give up trying to sleep.”

A stillness overcame the commander, and he stopped rubbing her back. He let his hand fall back into his own lap and slowly nodded,

“I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

She saw a flicker in his eye that wasn’t caused by the flames from the torch, but she let it go. She knew it wasn’t the time, and when he was ready, he would tell her. If he was ever ready. She hoped he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place pre-Perseverance (and pre-romance), so Cullen has not yet divulged what happened to him at the Circle.

**Author's Note:**

> TO BE CONTINUED...
> 
> {Please note: The name of the inquisitor is subject to change as I continue to refine and perfect her character and backstory.}


End file.
